Touch
by schweinsty
Summary: Five times Charles touched someone comfortingly, and one time someone hugged him. Gen for now. First part up-Scott.


Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.

Warning: Part i contains suicidal thoughts and ideation.

Touch

i. Scott

Alex Summers, it turned out, had a younger brother. Scott Summers, fifteen and gangly, like his brother in build but lacking in that carefree ease that even eleven months in solitary hadn't been able to beat out of Alex.

Though Charles' perception of the boy might have been biased, on account of their first meeting.

"Hello," Charles said as he took several careful, measured steps towards the boy sitting on the edge of the roof. "I'm Charles Xa-"

"I'm going to jump." Scott didn't turn around, but his fingers gripped the bricks, knuckles as pale as what Charles could see of his face. "You can't stop me. I'm going to do it."

_I'm so tired,_ his mind was - not screaming; Charles, extending his thoughts just enough to see, couldn't really put a name to the state of the boy's mind. It was - seething. A muddy pit, anger and helplessness and guilt and rage roiling together like an angry ocean, constant worries that _he could kill someone any minute if he wasn't careful if he let down his guard for just one moment someone could die and it would be his fault again and there wasn't anything he could do and he was tired, so tired_, anxiety so he couldn't sleep a few hours straight and hadn't for months, and his stomach always hurt and he felt sick all the time and threw up often when he ate, he was so nervous and tired, and the thought of seeing anyone terrified him because he could kill them but he missed people _so, so much_, he'd been so alone for so long and he just wanted to touch someone and not be afraid and it just wouldn't _stop_, and his eyes had hurt so much when-

Charles yanked his consciousness away of Scott's before he brought _that_ particular memory to the forefront of the boy's mind. He could just take over Scott, for the moment. Make him walk away from the ledge, knock him out for the trip until he was safe and sound at the mansion, but-he couldn't. The kid hadn't had control of anything since his powers first developed, hadn't been able to make one choice he hadn't been forced into.

The least Charles could do was let the kid come of his own free will.

Charles eased himself to the ground about a foot away from Scott, crouching down but ready to lunge for the kid if he jumped.

"I have a house," he said. "In the country, with no other houses for miles. There are bunkers in it built to withstand bomb attacks, and I know a scientist who specializes in building equipment to deal with powers like yours."

Scott didn't say anything, but he turned his head, just a bit. Just far enough that Charles could see the marks where he'd sewn his eyelid shut.

_It's going to be all right,_Charles wanted to say. Wanted to take Scott downstairs to Alex and tell them they were going to be fine.

"You don't have to do this," he said instead, and put a hand on Scott's shoulder.

Scott tensed at the sudden touch. Charles could feel the mistrust off of him, but there was a layer of guarded - tentative, barely-believing- hope.

"Here," Charles continued, and said the next without moving his lips. "Let me show you."

Scott's breaths hitched in surprise at the voice in his head, and his whole body went rigid as Charles moved his hand up to Scott's head, but the kid didn't move.

_It's all right_, Charles muttered through the link. _Watch._

And he let Scott see. He started with the house, showing him the bunker, showing him Alex, how Alex hadn't managed to destroy anything even at full power. Showed him Hank, toiling away at the suit, showed him Alex switching it on and off and targeting bulls-eyes like it was nothing.

_You don't have to do this,_ Charles said. _You don't have to die. We can help you control it._

It took a while. Didn't happen all at once. Scott didn't scramble away from the edge or even showed he'd noticed anything Charles had done for a good minute. But Charles could feel it; feel the tension, slowly, slowly begin to subside, the anger and the tight-knit worry recede, _It's not fair, I don't want to hurt anyone, I don't want to die_ slowly replaced by a simple _This can't be real, this can't be real _tinged with a sense of relief that grew, second by second and inch by inch, until Scott reached up with trembling fingers and touched Charles' arm.

"I don't-" Scott swallowed. His eyes moved under the lids, as if he were trying to see Charles. "I can't-"

_Please let this be real, I don't want to hurt you, this can't be real, please let it be-_

"It's okay." One last projection- a sense of calm and peace and all the sincerity Charles had in him - and Scott's mind stopped and started and _it's real, he's not lying, can I touch him? I'm so tired, it's real, it's going to be- I don't have to die, it's real and I'm fine_, and Alex started taking in a breath that turned into a sob halfway through, and Charles reached out and put his arms around the kid. "It's all right, Scott. I won't let you hurt me."

And Scott leaned forward and didn't pull away, and when his mind had settled down a bit, he went home for the first time in years.


End file.
